


a glimpse of normalcy

by zanykingmentality



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (swearing), Arranged Marriage, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oblivious Sylvain, Trans Male Character, felix loves animal crossing, trans felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23339827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: Sylvain is arranged to marry Felix Hugo Fraldarius, and goes through with it to give both of them the freedom they need from their strict Asian parents.Falling in love wasnotpart of the plan.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	a glimpse of normalcy

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration was [this](https://twitter.com/redditships/status/1241613092875841536) post. 
> 
> i haven't left my house in almost two weeks and got a bunch of college decisions so no time like the present to start working on a bunch of fics
> 
> unbeta-d as usual, so please forgive any lingering errors! enjoy!

Sylvain is all too aware that his _habits_ cause trouble for the Gautier family, and honestly, he couldn’t care less. The rebellious son in him damns propriety to hell. He flirts around, gets screamed at, says he’ll change, and doesn’t. It’s a simple push-and-pull game. Sure, maybe he hates it, but maybe what he _wants_ isn’t really that important. 

Unfortunately, the specific choices he has made brought him to _this_ situation. Seated face to face with the second Fraldarius. Margrave Gautier and Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius are situated just outside the door, probably toasting to the union of their children. 

“So… hi.” They’ve been silent for a long moment, and Sylvain decides to break the ice. If he’s going to marry this girl, he guesses he’ll have to know what she’s like, what kind of tricks will fly, how much he can get away with. 

“Before we start, let me tell you one thing.” Fraldarius stands up, brushes off her skirt. “My name is Felix, and you don’t want to marry me. I’m a man.” 

Sylvain stares for a moment before saying, simply, “Oh.” 

“I’m not out yet, but that should be enough to call this off, yeah?” 

“Oh, no, I mean, that’s not the problem,” Sylvain says. “I’m gay.” 

Felix blinks at him. “I thought you were notorious for chasing girls.” 

“Eh. I am what I am.” Sylvain grins. He does not mention that it’s self-torture, that he always knew he’d have to marry a girl for money and family connections. All Felix does in response is groan, like the world is playing some long-suffering joke on him. His robotic poker face gives way to an irritated scowl. 

“So, that’s it,” Felix says. “We go out there and say we can’t do this.” He starts to march to the door, but Sylvain grabs his wrist. 

“Wait.” The seldom-used gears in his head whir and click to life. “If we get married… Just hear me out, okay? If we go through with it, we can move away and like… do whatever. It’ll give both of us the space we need from here.” 

Felix glares at him for a long moment. A very long moment. Finally, he says, “Fine.” He rests his hand on the doorknob before adding, like an afterthought, “Just don’t fall in love with me.” Sylvain grins. 

That shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

* * *

They move to the States after the wedding with the promise to FaceTime their parents every so often. (Felix is forced to promise this. Sylvain, whose father did not even say goodbye, made no such promise.) Sylvain runs the branch of his father’s company in southeastern Michigan, just a few exits from Detroit. Dimitri’s at UMich studying criminal law, so their house is around Ann Arbor suburbia. Who can stay far from Dimitri for too long? 

(Dimitri’s professor and thesis advisor, as it turns out. He’s been vying for _her_ attention for years and has reportedly gotten only marginally closer to her. Good for him, Sylvain thinks. Felix thinks, why do we care, but that’s what Felix thinks about most things.) 

Everything happens so fast, it’s hard to keep track of. They move in, examine the lights and the porch and the three-car garage. Buy furniture, scope out downtown, get coffee. FaceTime one Fraldarius Senior, but Felix always goes to his own room to make those calls. Speaking of: they have separate rooms, and Felix’s wardrobe is filled with pants and black hair ties with a huge MCR revival poster on the wall over his desk. Photos are pinned to the corkboard next to the window, but they’re mostly of cool looking swords. Honestly, Sylvain can’t begrudge him that. _He_ rips out pictures of _Sports Illustrated_ and hangs them on the walls outside the neighborhood rec center, because he’s juvenile like that. Parents in the neighborhood would have his head, because God forbid some five year old sees a lady’s titties, despite having put their mouth on that shit just not long ago. In Sylvain’s mind, this five year old is wise beyond their years, but that is neither here nor there. The _point_ is… 

Uh… 

The _point_ … is that they’re making a home for themselves. There are accessories and accents and Felix spends two hours debating between different kinds of throw pillows, a passion Sylvain didn’t even know he had. In another aisle, Sylvain had been so distracted by racecar bed sheets that he lost Felix, and found him again in the toy aisle staring at plastic ninja swords. It’s all very domestic and very cute. 

Felix gets into a grad school program at the U and spends most afternoons at the kitchen table, pushing his glasses up his nose. Sylvain, predictably, finds this sight absolutely hilarious. (And if his heart settles in a way he’s unused to, if a strange feeling of calm washes over him looking at Felix happy, Felix doing his best, then that’s nobody’s business but his own.) 

Felix takes to falling asleep in Sylvain’s bed after weekend night calls to his father. Originally, the calls had been made in the privacy of Felix’s own room, but Rodrigue got antsy to see Felix living a happy married life, so Sylvain is now a regular appearance in Felix’s FaceTime calls. Six months into their marriage, and Felix says he’s too tired to go back to his own bed, is it alright if he just spends the night in Sylvain’s room? To which Sylvain raises his eyebrows, but yeah that’s totally fine, Felix, is everything okay? Felix gets under the covers and is asleep within a minute. 

Sylvain gets to work and takes deep breaths because he cannot be falling in love with a marriage of convenience, no matter how enticing his skin is or how ardently he protects what is important to him. Doesn’t matter how Felix’s eyes twinkle when they talk history despite how hard he tries to hide it. It’s not love, Sylvain convinces himself. They live together, spend most of their free time together. Of course he would think about it. 

Just as he’s starting to come to terms with being actually _interested_ in his literal husband, the city goes on lockdown. 

* * *

Restaurants and bars are all closed. Sylvain works from home, making calls and forwarding emails with information and resources. He tries to help arrange healthcare benefits, but he’s not great at that and decides to leave it to HR. Their cleaning lady hasn’t come in two weeks and the house is starting to smell less like a building and more like two _people._

Felix lays on the couch and gripes about everything, from the political climate to catching tarantulas in _Animal Crossing: New Horizons_ . Sylvain can really only look at him, feeling affection churning in his gut and wondering how the _hell_ he’s going to make it until the end of this quarantine. Felix still sleeps in his bed, and one night gets so close that Sylvain’s convinced Felix is going to kiss him, but he doesn’t, moves away at the last second, and Sylvain tries to extricate panic from disappointment in his myriad of emotions. It’s like his body shuts down whenever Felix so much as looks at him. It’s very gay and sexy and cute, but Sylvain is not used to being so stricken with love. His mind races a million miles a minute, calculating scenarios and things he could say. For all he flirts and spews nonsensical poetic shit, he’s surprisingly garbage at being _actually_ interested in someone. 

After maybe a week of this, of long days watching Felix slink around their house like a cat and panicking internally, Sylvain calls Ingrid for advice. 

(Not Dimitri. Dimitri would say to just say something, that Felix has always and will always appreciate utmost honesty, that obviously Felix likes him back or they wouldn’t _really_ have gotten married after all. Cheesy stuff like that, all things Sylvain doesn’t need to hear right now.) 

Ingrid is across the country with her girlfriend, the world-famous singer Dorothea Arnault, and picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“ _In_ _grid_ ,” Sylvain practically screams, “ _help._ ” 

The sigh she releases can only be described as exasperated and long-suffering. “What did you do now?” 

“I’d resent your tone right now, but it’s not unwarranted, and I’m panicking anyway.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I may be in love with Felix.” 

There’s a loud clatter on the other side, followed by assorted giggles. A voice, probably Dorothea’s, says, “Ingrid, everything alright?” 

“Just great,” Ingrid responds, voice stumbling over her own laughter. There’s a muffled noise followed by Ingrid’s voice again. “Sorry, Sylvain. So, Felix.” 

“Yes.” Sylvain has always been a master of concealing his emotions, but his impatience bleeds into his voice, somehow. “Help?” 

“This is just so… fake dating trope,” Ingrid says. “You know?” 

“ _Ingrid._ ” 

“Right, right. Sorry. I mean, would it be so terrible to just… tell him?” 

“I came to you for ideas that aren’t just telling him.” 

“Well, we can’t exactly go out these days…” Ingrid is quiet for a moment. Then, “You could cook something for him.” 

“I’m a terrible chef,” Sylvain deadpans. “I burned _water._ You were _there._ ” 

“Oh yeah,” Ingrid says. “How did you even manage to _do_ that?” 

“Not the point,” Sylvain says emphatically. 

“What do you want me to say, Sylvain?” Ingrid’s exasperation is so palpable, Sylvain can feel it from here. “You can’t expect Felix to make every move. He won’t know how you feel unless you tell him.” 

“I hate that you make sense,” Sylvain gripes. “I just kind of… freeze.” 

Ingrid practically scoffs at that. “You? Freeze in a romantic setting? Never thought I’d see the day.” 

“You’re the worst,” Sylvain says. 

“Thanks,” says Ingrid. “I take pride in it. I have a trophy in my room. The plaque just says, _Worst_.” 

Sylvain rolls his eyes. “Bye, Ingrid.” 

“Later.” 

He hangs up, realizing that none of his friends are any help in telling a boy you’re interested without actually telling him. 

Felix pokes his head into the room. “You good?” 

“I’m fine,” Sylvain says. 

“Good, so let me show you what this bitch of a villager said to me today.” Felix settles down onto the bed next to Sylvain, holding his Switch at just the right angle for both of them to see. He goes off on some rant about how he’s literally sending such nice letters to his villagers, says fuck only like once per letter, and _still_ gets angry responses? Artificial Intelligence is so disappointing, although Felix gets they’re pre-programmed to respond poorly to cuss words or something, but _still,_ they should know he’s just _like_ that—

At this point, Sylvain’s kind of tuned out, watching Felix’s mouth as he talks, intoxicated by the warmth pressed into his side. He doesn’t play Animal Crossing, so most of this is going right over his head anyway. 

“You’re not _listening,_ ” Felix says. 

Sylvain’s gaze jumps from his mouth to the Switch again. “What? No, I was listening. This bunny girl doesn’t like it when you cuss her out.” 

Felix gives him a look that sees too much, that seems to know what Sylvain is thinking, which is impressive because right now even _Sylvain_ hardly knows what he’s thinking. “I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Felix says, “but I’m here for you, okay? I’m not gonna say it again.” 

An involuntary smile pulls at Sylvain’s lips. Something bubbles in the dark recesses of his chest, the area to which he’s banished all his emotions. But then, how is he supposed to say being locked in the same house as Felix all day every day makes him feel like he’s drowning in air? Sylvain leans back, and is asleep. 

* * *

“You’re awake,” Felix says. Sylvain blinks up at him groggily. 

“Morning,” he says. Felix is still in his pajamas, but his hair is tied up and his face looks freshly washed. He’s holding a breakfast bar and a glass of water that he passes to Sylvain. 

“You were out for thirteen hours at _least_ ,” Felix says. 

“Sorry.” Sylvain takes a swig of water in an effort to banish the taste of sleep from his mouth. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Felix unwraps his breakfast bar and takes a bite into it. “Ugh, but I woke up with a headache. Kiss it better?” 

He says this so casually that Sylvain practically falls over himself. Felix doesn’t even turn to look at him, instead popping two Advil tablets into his mouth and swallowing them dry. And you know what? Fuck it. Fuck Felix. Sylvain’s gonna do it. 

“Sure,” Sylvain says. 

Felix looks over at him. “Hm?” 

Before he can chicken out, Sylvain launches himself forward and plants a kiss on Felix’s forehead. Immediately, Felix’s face lights up, imperceptibly, in that small way that only Sylvain notices. 

“I want to kiss you,” Sylvain says. 

“With morning breath?” Felix grins, so nonplussed. Anxiety courses through Sylvain’s veins as he mechanically stands up and hobbles to the bathroom, readies himself for the day at top speed, and steps back out, practically trembling. Felix is still looking at him with that awestruck expression, like Sylvain is some celestial being come to grace the morning. Or maybe he’s just imagining it. 

“That’s better,” Felix says, standing up. Sylvain screws his eyes shut and leans in, but Felix bursts into laughter. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, sorry, I’m just teasing you.” 

Sylvain’s skin prickles with heat. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I _actually_ like you and I _know_ you said not to fall in love with you but I went ahead and did it anyway, and I’m scared. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me because I like you but it’s agonizing and it’s all I can think about.” 

Felix reaches up and presses his palms to Sylvain’s cheeks, like he’s calming him from a particularly bad nightmare. It takes a moment for Sylvain to catch his breath. “Hey. Sylvain. Look at me.” 

He does.

“You know I like you, right?” 

Sylvain can only stare. 

“What? Are you — Did you not know?” 

Sylvain mutely shakes his head, still reeling. He can feel his eyes welling up. 

“No, no, don’t cry!” Felix steps forward and wraps his arms around Sylvain’s waist, perfectly. 

“I thought you were shy or something because you kept stopping, like you’d make a move and retract it just as fast, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it—” 

“When have I ever been shy?” Felix says, offended, a joking lilt to his voice. “Please. I thought I was overstepping. You looked like you were gonna have a heart attack when I tried to kiss you.” 

Sylvain rests his chin atop Felix’s head, sniffling. “I thought I might,” he confesses. “But in a good way.” 

“Then I’m gonna try it again,” says Felix. 

“Okay.” 

Felix pulls back and rams his mouth against Sylvain’s. Lips just barely parted, Felix is warm and bright and breathes life to Sylvain’s cracked notion of love. Less than ten seconds pass before he pulls back, leaving Sylvain chasing after his mouth, still wanting. Sylvain doesn’t wait, following Felix’s mouth like a moth to a flame, planting kisses anywhere his lips will land. 

There are still issues to address. Still things to talk about. But Felix runs his hand through Sylvain’s hair and suddenly things don’t feel so pressing anymore. The house feels more alive, like all of Sylvain’s fear of rejection and love evaporated in this one second. Of course, that’s not to say it’s all gone. He’s still scared, still hurt — but _Felix_ and _Felix_ and _Felix_ , and Sylvain forgets what it means to have a thought other than _Felix._

“I’d take you out on a date, but maybe not until after quarantine,” Felix says, pulling back for just a moment. 

“That’s for the best.” Sylvain hums noncommittally, a sound that starts in his throat and ends somewhere in his chest. He locks eyes with Felix and surges toward him once again. 

**Author's Note:**

> if this is in any way disrespectful to the OP of the post, please let me know on tumblr @zanykingmentality 
> 
> otherwise, i was thinking of making this into a series telling this story, as well as that of doroingrid and dimileth, let me know your thoughts!


End file.
